


Just the Icing on the Cake

by SeptemberMorningBell



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Baking, Ballet Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Cake, Depressed Victor Nikiforov, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Katsuki Yuuri is too gay for this shit, M/M, Mila Babicheva is sue perkins, Minor Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino, Phichit Chulanont Is a Good Friend, Pining Katsuki Yuuri, Pining Victor Nikiforov, Poetry professor Viktor Nikiforov, Screenplay/Script Format, and highly competitive, awkwardly cookery themed flirting, cake based puns, lil bit of angst, phichit chulanont is also a little shit, unnecessary avatar references, viktor with a k dammit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-06-06 05:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptemberMorningBell/pseuds/SeptemberMorningBell
Summary: Thirteen contestants from all over Britain (and Russia...and Japan...and Thailand) have put on their choux, fluffed their chiffons, and gathered their dough, ready to head out to the iconic tent and find out who deserves the title of the best amateur baker in Britain. That's right, connoisseurs of cake, it's time for the Great British Bake Off!Featuring professor emeritus of poetry and pining Viktor Nikiforov, and one very smitten ballet dancer named Katsuki Yuuri.





	1. We'll Get Started in a Chiffy...

**Author's Note:**

> It's not the Great British Bake Off fanfic we wanted, and it's not the one we deserved, but I'm here, I'm queer, and I'm baking some motherfucking cakes.

[The show opens with a flyover of a lush field, very much abloom with wildflowers, to a large, many-windowed tent set up on the green. MILA and CHRISTOPHE, the perennially peppy (and just a little bit peppery) presenters of the show, stand in the light of a rare sunny british morning, matching mischievous smiles on their faces. As the camera catches them they begin to walk, to where a line of contestants stand in clean white aprons, some visibly nervous, and some rather more excited.]

MILA: Well, the early grain's been sifted from the chaff, the dough has made it’s first rise, and now it's finally time for our new batch of aspiring choux-makers to take their first step into the iconic tent and towards the title of Britain's best amateur baker.

CHRISTOPHE: _[winking rakishly]_ It's going to be in-tents, _mes cheries_.

MILA: It certainly is! And we're all on tent-erhooks to see how our baker's dozen will fare when put against Madame Lilia's terrifyingly tart opinion of pies and our very own pie-eyed but opinionated tart, Celestino Cialdini! _[conspiratorially]_ And I have it on very good authority that he's styled that glorious Sampson mane especially for the occasion.

CHRISTOPHE: You know, I was wondering where all the butter had gone.

MILA: This year we had over eleven thousand applications from home bakers all around the country—and from that we’ve selected the _creme de la creme_ , the best of the best, the cherry on top of the cake: a full baker’s dozen of gifted dough wranglers who are ready to put their skills to the test.

CHRISTOPHE: _Oui, mes amies_ , it’s time for the Great British Bake Off to begin!

[Cut to YURI P, dressed in leopard print leggings and a black hoodie with ‘FIGHT ME’ emblazoned across the front in neon pink letters. His expression, too, has something of the hunting feline about it.]

YURI P: ‘Bout bloody time.

[Cut to YUURI K, in skinny jeans rolled up at the ankles and a soft blue jumper. His expression is a peculiar one: absolute dread, and, just peeking through underneath, a steel bright core of pure determination.]

YUURI K: Oh gosh. I’m pretty sure I’m only here because the judges felt sorry for me. _[laughs nervously and covers his face with his hands]_ Oh, well. May as well be hanged for the souffle as the egg—that’s, that’s, um, what Phichit keeps…keeps…um…

_[Yuuri trails off, staring off to the left with wide eyes and a very obvious blush dusting his cheeks and nose. The object of his distraction can be just glimpsed in the camera’s field of view—one of the other competitors, a lithe figure with a head of silvery hair and the jawline of an ancient Grecian hero. The cameraman coughs pointedly.]_

YUURI K: _[Flustered]_ I…uh…Phichit. Right. Phichit—that’s my best friend. He’s—he made it here too! He’s an amazing baker. Pretty sure he’s going to win the whole thing, ha. Um. But he said he wouldn’t try out unless I did too, so… _[shrugs a little ruefully, a slightly ironic twinkle in the big brown eyes just visible behind a dark fringe and blue-framed glasses, a tiny glimpse of impishness that could easily go unseen by the casual observer.]_

I’ll do my best. I mean, you can only fail so catastrophically, right?

_[Opens eyes wide, looking slightly horrified.]_

Right?

[Cut to VIKTOR, impeccably dressed in skinny jeans and a deceptively fashionable shirt, flashing an intimidatingly perfect grin at the camera and looking dazzlingly handsome in the early sunlight. His Russian accent comes through strongly as he chatters away, but nevertheless he’s pure magic on camera. There is, however, just a hint of hollowness in the unwavering perfection of his smile, an undercurrent of some indefinable ennui in the slow tilt of his head.]

VIKTOR: Well, of course I am not nervous. I am really very good, you know. So much… _[waves hands dismissively]_ Obvious! Inconceivable that it should be any other way. Da, da. I know. _[laughs]_ Pride cometh before a fall. Still. I look forward to the challenge! And I look forward to getting to know all my talented competitors as well! _[Viktor winks, smirks, and the opening theme begins to play.]_

[CUE THEME MUSIC AND TITLE SEQUENCE]

[The camera cuts to a view of the competitors walking towards the tent, and then transitions smoothly inside, where presenters MILA and CHRISTOPHE stand at the head of the room with the series judges, LILIA and CELESTINO. LILIA is a tall, severe woman, her hair in a high no-nonsense bun and her suit impeccably tailored. CELESTINO is a much more friendly figure, though with a slightly leonine look, his long lustrous ponytail glinting in the light. The contestants—YUURI K, YURI P, VIKTOR, PHICHIT, OTABEK, MINAMI, SEUNG-GIL, YUUKO, ISABELLA, SARA, JJ, GEORGI, and YAKOV--stand behind their workstations, displaying varying degrees of excitement and tension.]

MILA: Welcome, competitors, to your very first Signature Bake! Today, Lilia and Celestino would like you to whip up a lovely, lacy, lip smacking…chiffon cake!

CHRIS: You’ve been given _carte-blanche_ on your flavours, shapes, and fillings—though of course I myself will always recommend a sultry Swiss meringue. _[winks]_

[Cut to PHICHIT, a human firework show in converse and a hamster apron. He glances at the camera and fans himself comically.]

CHRIS: The only requirement is that your cake in some way represents you as a baker.

MILA: Now, in case you hadn’t noticed, we’ve got thirteen of you this go round—a proper baker’s dozen. Which means…

CHRIS: One of those lonely single eliminations just turned into a twosome.

MILA: It may come early…

CHRIS: _[Pouting]_ Always such a disappointment.

MILA: …Or our esteemed judges might hold it in reserve all the way to the semi-finals.

CHRIS: You’ve been warned, _mes cheries._

MILA: Now, you have two hours to complete your chiffon cakes. _[clearly increasingly delighted to be back in her old role and kicking off a new season]_ Ready to whip out the old catchphrase, Chris?

CHRIS: I’m always ready to whip it out, Mila.

CELESTINO: _[laughs]_ That’s why you’re banned from the local pubs. 

[A few chuckles can be heard around the room]

CHRIS: I do my best. Alright. _[turns to MILA]_ …on your marks!

MILA: Get set!

BOTH: BAAAKE!

 

NARRATOR: _[Voiceover as the camera pans around the suddenly bustling tent]_ Chiffons are very light, moist cakes, a blend of sponge and oil cake, made by replacing the customary butter or shortening with vegetable oil and relying on an egg white meringue to attain the fluffy texture one would normally get from beating air into the batter.

[Cut to LILIA, sitting very straight on a bench outside.]

LILIA: I selected a chiffon cake for this challenge because in many ways it is a blank slate—an opportunity for we as judges to gauge the skill and inclinations of the contestants. But it also requires a meticulous attention to detail. If one is unduly careless… _[Stares icily at the camera. One can almost hear the thunk of the guillotine in her pointed silence.]_

[Cut to CELESTINO, sitting with his elbows on his knees against an arboreal background.]

CELESTINO: This is the sort of challenge that really lets you get a handle on the bakers’ personalities. A chiffon cake is just a base—the possibilities are endless, and I’m quite excited to see what our latest batch come up with! Hopefully not just your basic Meyer lemon cake, eh?

[The camera transitions back into the tent via various agricultural shots, of local lambs and wildflowers, before panning through the increasingly noisy tent and finally settling on a grave-faced baker. It is OTABEK, slowly and deliberately weighing flour. He glances up, looking slightly surprised to see the camera there.]

OTABEK: _[without preamble]_ It’s an apple honey cake. 

_[He holds up his hands, making measured slicing motions as he describes each layer.]_

OTABEK: Apple. Honey buttercream. Apple. Honey cardamom glaze. Apple rosettes. _[Nods decisively.]_

[Voiceover as footage of Otabek—working in his family’s mechanic shop, playing with his younger sisters, and DJ-ing in a local club—is played.]

NARRATOR: Otabek grew up in Cheshire, but his family hails from Almaty, Kazakhstan, where he spent many summers as a child. He works in the family mechanic business, fixing cars and motorbikes, but spends most of his free time—when he isn’t baking his own unique blend of Kazakh and English desserts—DJing in the local music scene.

YURI P: _[from the station directly in front of Otabek]_ Apples? Really? You’re going with an _apple cake_ for the first challenge?

OTABEK: _[glances at Yuri P, looking very nearly amused. At the station behind him, Minami is staring with a starry-eyed expression at something—or someone—near the front of the tent]_ These are not your English apples. I think you may be surprised.

YURI P: _[slicing through his pile of passionfruit as though it has personally insulted his cat]_ Tcha.

[Otabek, utterly unfazed by the young contestant’s anger, shrugs and returns to carefully weighing out his ingredients without a word].

[Cut to the judges, Chris, and Mila approaching Isabella’s station. She is currently separating egg whites with a practised hand. Beside her sits an unopened bottle of rosé.]

MILA: Morning, Isabella! Ooh, this looks promising.

CHRIS: _[inspecting the bottle of wine]_ Ah, I see you know the way to my heart, _cherie_. And Lilia’s too.

ISABELLA: Morning, Mila! Madame Lilia. Gentlemen. Yeah, I thought you might like that. _[Laughs]_ It’s five o’ clock somewhere, right?

CELESTINO: So what are you planning with this? And don’t say ‘drinking it’. _[Laughs]_

ISABELLA: I’m making a sparkling rosé chiffon with grapefruit ermine frosting and candied grapefruit peels. It’s light, bright, and a little bit sharp—like me. Or, it will be, if it comes together, ha.

LILIA: Ermine frosting? Hmm.

CELESTINO: Well, colour me intrigued. Good luck, Isabella.

ISABELLA: Thanks! 

[Voiceover as the camera cuts to scenes from Isabella’s job at an architecture firm and her small, well-kept apartment, lingering on an elaborate spun sugar piece in the shape of the Eiffel tower.]

NARRATOR: Isabella lives in London, where she designs avant-garde structures in both concrete and cake.

[Cut back to the tent]

ISABELLA: _[looks at camera as the judges move on to the next contestant]_ ‘Hmm?’ What does that mean, ‘hmm?’ Does Lilia hate ermine frosting? … _[She shakes her head, laughing nervously]_ I’m not going down that road. She’s so much more intimidating in person, isn’t she?

JJ: _[loudly, from three stations away]_ C’mon, no need to be intimidated! You’ve got to have talent if you’re here competing against _me_.

[Isabella rolls her eyes at the bombastic statement, but looks a little heartened nevertheless.]

ISABELLA: Bit of a popinjay, isn’t he? _[shakes her head.]_ Still. I really think he’s trying to be nice. And that’s more than you can say for most of the world, isn’t it?

GEORGI: _[pitting a nectarine and throwing the stone in the bin with rather more force than necessary]_ This world is loveless and cruel, Izzy. Don’t let it fool you. ‘Niceness’ is only the cover on the blade before—ha! _[The knife slams down into the next piece of fruit. Juice spurts across the counter. Both Sara and Yuuri K visibly flinch.]_ —it’s plunged into your back!

ISABELLA: _[sympathetically]_ Oh, Georgi. Anya wasn’t good enough for you anyway.

[Georgi does not reply. The pile of mangled nectarines grows.]

[The judges move on to Viktor’s station, where they are greeted by an intoxicating blend of dark chocolate and roses.]

CHRIS: _[purring]_ Good _morning_ , Viktor.

[Viktor’s smile seems slightly hollow, but he plays to Chris’s flirtatious greeting, tossing his hair and winking shamelessly at Lilia.]

VIKTOR: Good morning to you too, Chris. Mila, Celestino. Madame. I’m afraid you just missed the chance to poke holes in my batter; it went in the oven five minutes ago. But I’ve got some rosewater buttercream here, if you really want something to critique.

MILA: _[grabbing the spoon and tasting it enthusiastically]_ Ooh! That’s delicious!

CELESTINO: Lilia’s got that ‘I disapprove of your choices but I’m not going to say anything’ look again.

LILIA: Rose requires a certain degree of delicacy. From here…I really hope your buttercream will not be…perfume-y, Viktor.

VIKTOR: _[lightly, but with a certain challenging edge]_ Oh, but it is, as it should be. Like the faintest lingering suggestion of a lover’s scent on your pillow, da? It…hints. Like the best of perfume.

LILIA: Hmm. We shall see.

CHRIS: Naysaying Madame Lilia, Viktor? You madman. I’m smitten already.

[Viktor merely smiles, his eyes hidden behind his long fringe.]

[The video cuts to a montage of Viktor—giving a lecture on the _Iliad_ to a hall full of fascinated university students, walking the streets of Oxford with his poodle, and sitting by the window of his empty modern flat, deeply engrossed in a book.] 

NARRATOR: Viktor differs from our usual run of amateurs in that he’s already a bit of a legend in his own specific field. A linguistic prodigy, the youngest professor of poetry to ever hold a chair at Oxford, he’s received accolades for his daring modern translation of the Odyssey and several collections of his own poetry. That appreciation for beauty in all forms he transfers to his baking, a skill he learned from his mother at home in St. Petersburg and continued to perfect as his career continued its upward trajectory. His students are apparently thrilled that he’s competing this season, as is his beloved poodle Makkachin.

[The camera returns to the tent, focusing in on Viktor once more.]

VIKTOR: _[shrugging]_ Pastry is a lot less forgiving than poetry, I must admit. But I want to show the world that I am not just my work, you understand? And baking is…very dear to my heart. 

[The camera pulls back, showing the cacophony of baking in full swing, mixers whirring, pots bubbling, and their owners darting to and fro with frenzied energy as the given two hours tick down.]

MILA: _[from Sara’s station, where she’s stealing pistachios from under the Italian baker’s hands and giggling. Sara’s expression is a study in fifty shades of Gay and Suffering.]_ Alright, everyone, we’re at the halfway point! You have one hour left!

SARA: _[flustered]_ oh, god, what did I do with my—spoon! Yes! I need a spoon!

MILA: _[looking through the various accoutrements on Sara’s station]_ Spoon, okay. I can help with that. Big or little spoon?

[Sara and Mila stare at each other for a long moment before bursting into slightly nervous laughter.]

SARA: Big spoon, please.

NARRATOR: _[brightly, as the camera pans across the tent, alighting briefly on Minami doing exuberant pliés as he throws strawberries in a pot and Phichit triumphantly putting the finishing touches on a sheet of spun sugar leaves, before moving on]_ Isabella isn’t the only one hoping pass this challenge with flying colours! Both Yuuko and Minami are using the vivid hues of their chosen flavours in the final presentation of their cakes. 

[The camera pans to YUUKO, who’s mixing a startlingly purple cream with a cheerful grin and a competitive glint in her eyes. Her brown hair is tied back in a high ponytail, and there’s a scribble of brightly coloured marker on her arm, presumably put there by an overenthusiastic six year old.]

YUUKO: I’m making a purple sweet potato chiffon! It’s not too common a flavour in these parts, and some people are a little put off by the colour, but my kids love it. _[Laughs]_ My husband does too, though you’ll never get him to admit it. _[Looks at camera]_ Sorry, sweetheart. Your secret’s out.

[The video cuts to a montage of Yuuko’s home life with her overwhelmingly enthusiastic daughters and devoted husband.]

NARRATOR: Yuuko owns an ice cream shop in Cornwall with her husband Takeshi, and is attempting to teach her triplets her secret recipe for the perfect ice cream cake.

MILA: You’re certainly seem more relaxed than the rest of your competitors.

YUUKO: _[laughs]_ I have six year old triplets. This is a piece of cake.

MILA: _[laughing as well]_ Hey! That’s against the rules. That’s got to be against the rules. Puns are are a hosting privilege, Yuuko!

YUUKO: I couldn’t resist! I’m sorry.

MILA: _[magnanimously]_ I forgive you. _[looks around at the tent, now a scene of chaos and nerves save for the circle of perfect uncanny calm around Yuuko. Across the aisle, Yuri P is frantically whipping cream and Yakov is slicing through a pile of strawberries like a human guillotine. Phichit is a blur of motion and bright green pandan extract. Three stations away, Yuri K is leaning on his counter with his head in his hands, two bowls of already mixed batter discarded at the end of the table and two freshly made ones in front of him, breathing in and out very slowly and counting in Japanese. Viktor, cake long since in the oven and rosewater buttercream chilling, is tempering chocolate. His expression is unreadable.]_ Any thoughts on the competition so far?

YUUKO: _[squinting calculatingly at her cream]_ You know, everyone’s been talking about Viktor over there, and how he’s, you know, a total genius on top of being stupidly handsome— _[laughs]_. Sorry, sorry, but it’s true! But, you know, I’m actually most worried about Yuuri K, I think. I mean, we both have Japanese influence in our baking, but he’s actually from Japan. I feel like I’m at a bit of a disadvantage there. Still. _[she smiles, clearly not fazed in the least by any of this.]_ It’s a great opportunity for me to learn, I think. And practise my Japanese! I haven’t had anyone to talk with since uni. _[Yuuko delicately tastes her buttercream, a wicked grin on her face.]_ Though it seems like I’m not the only one with that idea.

[The camera shifts to a very frazzled looking Yuuri K, flour smudged on his nose and appearing near to tears as he pours his hochija and yuzu marbled chiffon into the pan with shaking hands. Minami, a few stations behind, stares at him over his strawberry-kiwi jam with slightly manic eyes. Christophe leans on the counter, looking sympathetic.] 

YUURI K: It’s not…it didn’t quite…my meringue wasn’t…I had to make it again.

CHRIS: _[tasting the discarded batter]_ Yuuri, _cherie_ , I admit I’m a little confused here, because this is absolutely divine.

YUURI K: Not divine _enough_.

CHRIS: _[frowning]_ I’d be more worried about it being undercooked because you ran out of time, if I were you. You’ve only got a hour left.

YUURI K: _[forcefully] I know._

[Inhaling sharply, he places the now filled pan in the oven and shuts the door, grabbing at the timer with a half panicked, half blank stare and inputting a number it’s clear he’s not entirely sure about. This done, he collapses on his counter, head buried in his arms.]

NARRATOR: Yuuri is a classically trained dancer originally from Hasetsu, Japan, who performed with the Tokyo Ballet and our own Royal Ballet before taking up a post as a dance teacher in Oxfordshire, where he lives with his best friend and co-contestant Phichit and their three hamsters: Choux, Filo, and Puff. His daring Japanese confections are a favourite with their neighbours and friends.

[The video displays various scenes from Yuuri’s life as the voiceover offers his background—him dressed in practise clothes and ballet shoes, jete-ing across the floor of a studio like gravity has lost its hold, swing dancing with Phichit in their cramped shared kitchen as a pie cooks in the oven, rolling out a circle of pale dough, and the briefest glimpse of his graceful figure silhouetted in stage lights and sequins.] 

[The camera returns to the tent, where Phichit has come around from his station to comfort his stressed out friend.]

PHICHIT: Deep breaths, Yuuri. You’ve got this.

YUURI K: _[muffled]_ The only thing I’ve got is anxiety and cake.

[Phichit pats Yuuri comfortingly on the back.] 

PHICHIT: It’s a good thing this is a baking competition, then.

YUURI K: I didn’t say it was good cake.

[He stays there for a moment, clearly overwhelmed, before inhaling sharply, lifting his head from the counter, and then, without warning, drops into a perfect side split in front of his oven.] 

[Phichit shakes his head fondly. Chris whistles. Minami makes a noise like a dying squirrel.]

[Viktor, who up til now has been operating in his own rarefied sphere of perfectly folded egg whites and lightly rosy buttercream, looks up as though pulled by a string, expression for the first time genuinely curious.]

YUURI K: _[jumping up, clearly embarrassed] Gomen_ , sorry, false alarm, I—I thought I smelled something burning.

[As he waves his hands wildly, he catches sight of Viktor watching him, mouth open as though about to speak, and immediately turns back around, face the exact shade of a ripe tomato.]

[Viktor looks slightly hurt before covering it up with a blank smile and a toss of his hair.]

YUURI K: _[furiously, to Phichit]_ Who gave him the right to be that beautiful and perfect and brilliant and _beautiful_ when I’m over here just trying to live my life and not be flamingly gay on international television? _[covers his face with his hands]_ I came here to bake and disappoint my family, not fall apart completely in front of the world’s most perfect man.

PHICHIT: _[hysterical cackling]_

[Seung-gil, whose pineapple-coconut chiffon went in to the oven perfectly on time and whose baking station is taken up by a well-ordered array of neatly labeled jars and a laminated, checked-off schedule, looks deeply annoyed at these antics. This only lasts for a second before the expression is taken over by one of utmost horror, and he darts to his own oven, eyes wild.]

SEUNG-GIL: _[clearly disturbed, staring at the blackened top of his chiffon as he sets it on his counter]_ I don’t understand. I put it in twenty eight minutes ago. The optimal time to take it out shouldn’t have been…shouldn’t have been…

SARA: _[peering at Seung-gil’s oven]_ Oh gosh, you’ve got it set to nearly 200 c! You’re lucky it didn’t catch.

SEUNG-GIL: Impossible. I set it to 165.

SARA: _[uncertain]_ I guess it might be the thermometer…

SEUNG-GIL: _[almost pleading]_ I _checked._

MILA: Aw, chin up, Seung-gil, all isn’t lost. It’s just the top that’s charred.

SEUNG-GIL: But it shouldn’t have been. 

ISABELLA: Did you put it on the wrong rack?

SEUNG-GIL: I…

JJ: I always double check the temperature before putting anything in! No shame in being careful!

[Yuuri K, frantically stirring a mixing bowl full of green tea glaze he’s thrown together, offers the most helpful advice so far].

YUURI K: Does any of that matter right now? Just let it drop out and then lop the burnt bits off as neatly as you can. _[laughs, slightly hysterically]_ You won’t be the only one disappointing Madame Lilia right out of the gate, Seung-Gil, don’t worry. We can start the club of nervous wrecks early this season.

YURI P: Yeah, no kidding.

[Phichit glares at him, but says nothing.]

[Yakov, at his station in the back and utterly unmoved by the various troubles of his competitors, shakes his head gravely and continues piping creme patisserie onto his sandwich chiffon.]

[The kitchen quickly returns to its state of bustling activity as the time ticks down. Seung-Gil, still obviously distraught, follows Yuuri’s suggestion to trim the top once it’s out. Minami is lovingly placing candied kiwis across the top of his cake. Georgi sprinkles sea salt on his nectarine and dark chocolate ‘heartbreak’ chiffon with fanatical intensity.]

MILA: Whip that cream and cream that whip, everyone, because you have five minutes remaining! Yes, you heard me right, little Yuri—five minutes!

[The activity in the tent, if possible, becomes even more frantic. Icing is piped, chocolate is drizzled, cakes are plated, and the last finishing touches are desperately added as the time races down to zero.]

MILA: _[Effortlessly lifting a delighted, if intimidated, Minami off his feet and away from his bright, sticky-looking cake]_ That’s time, everybody! Stop ruffling your chiffon, JJ, I can see you over there—your first signature bake is _over_!

MINAMI: Oh gosh. I’m so nervous! I’m shaking all over.

SEUNG-GIL: I managed to remove the burnt parts. But I’m not happy with the way it turned out.

YAKOV: I’m quite pleased with it. I believe Madame Lilia will be too. _[Faraway look]_ A magnificent woman. Truly magnificent.

YUURI K: _[dropping heavily onto his stool as glaze drips off his still too-warm cake and pools on the serving platter]_ Madame Lilia is going to eat me alive.

PHICHIT: No, no, she’ll definitely kill you first. She’d never serve undercooked Yuuri.

YUURI K: _[dryly]_ Thanks. _[Looks up]_ Your cake looks amazing, Phi.

PHICHIT: _[beaming]_ I know. 

YURI P: My cake turned out great. _[shrugs]_ There’s only room for one Yuri around here, and I think we all know who it’s going to be.

[Viktor presses one finger against his mouth, his dark chocolate rose chiffon sitting like indulgent beauty and sin in front of him, and says nothing.]

[Madame Lilia and Celestino enter the tent, and the first round of judging begins.]

[First to the knife is JJ’s unorthodox maple-lime cake. Celestino takes a tentative bite as JJ stands with his chest puffed out and an expression of utmost assurance on his face.]

CELESTINO: I was absolutely expecting to hate this…but I really do like the flavours there.

LILIA: I can only agree. A very clever, daring choice, Jean-Jaques. Though I am not as fond of the presentation.

[Lilia looks critically at the flamboyantly decorated chiffon cake ‘JJ’ in front of her.]

JJ: _[voiceover]_ Of course, it was a risk, going with a combination like that—but, like I always say, if you want to be the king, you’ve got to go big. And they loved it!

[The camera pans around the tent, showing competitors’ various worried expressions as the judges continue on their round. Sara’s pistachio and caramel cake meets general approval, as do Otabek’s apple honey cake, Isabella’s sparkling grapefruit rose, and Phichit’s pandan lemongrass creation. Yuuko’s purple sweet potato cake elicits raptures from Celestino and Mila, while Lilia offers approving nods at Yakov’s traditional sandwich cake and, surprisingly, Georgi’s sweet, bitter, and slightly salty nectarine dark chocolate cake, while giving a critical eye to Minami’s slightly oversweet strawberry kiwi and Seung-gil’s burnt pineapple coconut chiffon. Yuri P’s mandarin and candied passionfruit swirl receives a largely neutral response.]

[The judges eventually make their way around to Viktor.]

LILIA: _[reluctantly, as she tastes the offered slice]_ I…can find no fault with this. The cake itself is airy and light, even with the dark chocolate, and the rosewater buttercream cuts the bitterness well…it’s slightly unsubtle for me personally, but that is purely a matter of individual taste. Well done, Viktor.

CELESTINO: _[enthusiastic chewing]_

[Viktor nods, showing no surprise and purely mechanical pleasure at the praise.]

[Finally, the judges and hosts approach Yuuri K’s station.]

LILIA: _[tasting]_ This is…quite undercooked.

YUURI K: _[very quietly]_ I…the first one wasn’t good enough. I had to remake it. I thought—I thought I’d have enough time.

LILIA: That was a mistake.

[YUURI K nods with resigned misery. YURI P’s expression is contemptuous, but his hands shake slightly where they lie on his lap. It seems even the fiery teenager is not immune to the stress of competition.]

LILIA: However…

[YUURI K looks up.]

LILIA: Your choice of flavours, and your hand in applying them, is positively masterful. Subtle, delicate, and surprising. Had you given more attention to your time management, this would have been a winner by a mile. Even underdone as it is…I don’t hate it. I wouldn’t turn down a slice if it were offered.

[CHRIS claps him on the back. PHICHIT beams like a proud father. YURI P looks thrown.] 

[Viktor leans forward on his stool, one finger pressed to his mouth, eyes suddenly bright and clearly far more interested than he had been in Lilia’s critique of his own cake.]

YUURI K: _[amazed] Doumo arigatou gozaimasu_ —I mean, thank you! Very much. I’ll—I’ll do better next time!

LILIA: I trust that you will.

 

[The camera cuts to Viktor, lounging gracefully on a bench in a wooded area]

VIKTOR: Oh, I’m quite pleased with the response so far. I’m saving the best for the showstopper! _[His expression grows thoughtful, a hint of something that seems like it might be genuine pleasure in his deeply blue eyes]_ It definitely looks as though I might need it.

 

[Cut to Yuri P, against the same arboreal background]

YURI P: My cake was way better than just ‘pleasant’. _[Scoffs]_ But they raved over ballet boy’s half baked monstrosity, so shows what they know, ya? _[Scowls]_ I’m winning the technical, though. No question. Bring it on, baking gods.

 

[Cut to Seung-Gil]

SEUNG-GIL: I still don’t know what went wrong. I don’t like it. It’s throwing me off, and I need all of my faculties for the technical. _[Shrugs]_ I can only trust that my chemistry is sound. _[His expression turns thoughtful]_ And Yuuri K won over Madame Lilia with a objectively poor bake. I just need to discover how he did it.

 

[Cut to Yuuri K]

YUURI K: Oh my god. I served Lilia Baranovskaya an undercooked cake. And she _liked_ it.

[Covers face with hands and slumps against the tree behind him, utterly overwhelmed.]

 

[Cut to Phichit]

PHICHIT: Yuuri, you absolute _legend_.

[Phichit collapses in a fit of hysterical giggles, and the camera fades to black.]


	2. Marzi-pandemonium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first technical challenge. Ready...Get Set...BAKE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return from professional writing hell with a slice of devil's food cake, 95% cacao and dripping what you really hope is raspberry coulis. Bon appetit.

[The camera cuts to a brief montage of pastoral scenes, before returning to the tent, where the competitors are gathered for their very first Technical Challenge.]

MILA: Alright, boys and girls. The moment for practice and planning is over. This go round we’re winging it like Korean fried chicken! But hopefully not literally. _[beams]_ It’s Technical Challenge time!

CHRIS: And since we don’t want our esteemed judges peeking, I’ll be asking them to leave now. _[waves, begins shepherding Lilia and Celestino out of the tent] Adieu, Monsieur and Madame!_

MILA: _[once the judges have departed]_ Today, you’ll be making a traditional British Easter dessert—a Simnel cake! 

[Yuri P looks smug. Minami looks blank. Phichit and Sara both appear thoughtful, while Yuuri K just seems stressed. Viktor, resting his chin on his hand with his usual perfect composure, narrows his eyes and waits.]

MILA: This is one of Madame Lilia’s own recipes, so you know she’ll be looking for perfection. You’ll have two and a half hours for this challenge, so get on your marks, get set… _[takes an exaggerated look at Christophe’s watch]_ BAKE!

NARRATOR: _[as the camera pans around the tent, showing the whole baker’s dozen absorbed in the provided recipes]_ For the Technical challenge, the contestants are given only the barest outline of a recipe, and must rely on their knowledge of cake making to produce the requested delight. For some, of course, this will prove more difficult than others.

YUURI K: Well…I’m Shinto, and I grew up in Japan, so, you know, Easter cakes…aren’t really my thing. _[scans the given recipe, and inhales deeply before breathing out]_ I’m just going to do my best. What’s the worst that can happen?

Uh, don’t answer that, please.

 

JJ: Easter? In the Leroy house, we always make Simnel cakes on Mother’s day! So I’m ready to take first place in this challenge. Always start strong, that’s my motto. 

 

PHICHIT: Well, I might not have the same cultural touchstones that some of the other competitors have, but I _do_ have a thirty year old, faded, dog slobbered—thanks, _Yuuri_ —half the pages gone copy of Delia’s Book of Cakes, and that’s basically the same thing, right? _[laughs]_ I’m actually—I’m actually really excited. This is fun!

[Voiceover as footage from Phichit’s life is shown on screen: Phichit snapping a selfie with a surprisingly excited looking goat, in hamster-print scrubs and tending to an injured puppy in his day job as a veterinary technician, balancing a mouthwatering array of Thai desserts on his arms as he bounds towards a crowded table in the tiny flat he shares with Yuuri K.] 

NARRATOR: Phichit Chulanont originally hails from Bangkok, Thailand, where his family still resides, and the brilliance and colour of his homeland is a strong influence in his baking. He currently attends university in Oxfordshire, where he’s studying business communications and working as a vet tech, though his true dream is to open a bakery and boulangerie and bring Thai flavours into the upper echelons of the pastry world. His best friend and roommate Yuuri K is also competing this season.

[The camera cuts to Celestino and Lilia, seated at a daintily set table under a copse of picturesque trees. Madame Lilia lifts an opaque cake dome to reveal the confection beneath, a fruit cake layered in marzipan with 11 evenly spaced marzipan spheres placed on the top.]

LILIA: As you can see, I’ve chosen a Simnel cake for their first technical.

CELESTINO: _[eagerly cutting into the cake with the provided knife]_ Oh, I haven’t had one of these since… _alors_ …I couldn’t even tell you.

LILIA: Glad to be of service, then.

CELESTINO: _[smiling and proffering a slice to her]_ So what are you expecting from our bakers, Madame?

LILIA: I have _asked for_ a moist, light fruit cake, two even layers, sandwiching a marzipan filling, and topped with another nicely broiled layer of marzipan and decorated with exactly eleven balls of the same. You see the nice browning on the top layer? 

CELESTINO: Mmmhmm.

LILIA: As to what I _expect_ …well. A matter of taste, I suppose.

CELESTINO: _[taking a bite]_ Well, nothing lacking in taste here!

LILIA: Quite.

[The camera cuts back to the tent, where the bakers are perusing the somewhat nebulous recipe] 

YAKOV: _[scanning recipe sheet]_ Hmm. Marzipan. I note that we are not told whether it is part of the cake or a topping—or both. Of course, I can expect Madame Lilia to provide us with clever challenge for our first technical. It will not do to be overconfident. 

SARA: _[reading from the given instruction sheet]_ “Make cake batter.” Well, that’s not vague _at all_.

ISABELLA: I mean…a fruit cake is a fruit cake, right? It’s a butter cake with fruit. I make one every Christmas.

GEORGI: _[miserably]_ Anya used to complain about my Christmas fruitcake… 

OTABEK: _[very soft and completely expressionless]_ It was probably a bit too nutty for her.

[Yuri P, apparently the only one hearing this, makes a disgusted noise and turns pointedly away to weigh his flour. A careful observer might just discern the almost invisible twitch of well-suppressed amusement curling up one side of his mouth as he does so.]

[Otabek turns his head to look into the camera ala “The Office” and, very slowly, winks.]

 

[Yuuko, cheerful as ever, has already finished reading the instructions and is pouring almond meal into her stand mixer bowl.]

YUUKO: Do you know, I’ve never made marzipan before? I mean, frangipane, sure! Everyone loves a bakewell tart. But I guess I always thought marzipan was a bit too divisive for little girls’ birthday parties. Like marmite, right? You love it or you hate it.

CHRIS: _[placing his hands over his heart with completely uncalled for drama]_ I can’t believe you’d insult marzipan like that, _cherie_.

YUUKO: I guess we know which camp you’re in, Chris!

[The camera pans to Yuuri K, who stares absolutely frozen at the recipe in his hand for a painful minute before breaking out of his paralysis with a peculiarly grace dive for the ground almonds. Taking a deep breath, he begins to measure.]

YUURI K: _[singing quietly to the tune of the animated spider man theme, as he prepares his almond mix in a state of intense focus, largely oblivious to the world around him]_ Marzipan…marzipan…does whatever…a marzipan does…

VIKTOR: _[absentmindedly in the same tune, as he gives his almond mixture a few quick kneads at the next station over]_ Does it mar…the baking pan…

YUURI: No it doesn’t…

BOTH: It’s marzipan…

[Viktor and Yuuri meet one another’s eyes as the former trails off, and then both blush in varying degrees of brilliance and hurriedly bury their faces in their baking. The camera lingers for a moment on Viktor, who turns away, hiding the unexpected crack in his cool self possession and the human beneath like a shameful secret.]

[This byplay goes largely unnoticed by the other occupants of the tent, who are distracted by their own struggles. Seung-Gil, in particular, appears to be having a great deal of trouble.]

SEUNG-GIL: It should simply be a matter of ratios. I just need to…I need to…

[Voiceover as the narrator formally introduces Seung-Gil. We are treated to a glimpse of him in a pristine white lab coat, hunched over a solitary beaker and meticulously measuring some clear liquid into it, and a view of him with a similar beaker set in his own tidy flat, measuring out water. A sourdough starter in a jar bubbles away nearby. And lastly, a shot of him with a large, clearly well taken care of Siberian husky on his lap.]

NARRATOR: A researcher by trade with a PHD in Organic Chemistry, Seung-Gil sees baking as the practical application of his specialty to his daily routine. He believes his meticulous precision and ability to quickly apply baker’s math to the challenges will give him a leg up over the other contestants. He also enjoys training his beloved Siberian husky to run agility courses in his free time.

[The camera returns to the tent. Seung-Gil remains stoic, but it is evident that he’s at a loss.]

SEUNG-GIL: Baking is a science. I need numbers. I need _data_.

MILA: You’ve got data! It’s just in your head, right? I mean, you’ve baked plenty of cakes before.

SEUNG-GIL: 438 exactly. But none of them were Simnel cakes.

MILA: But some of them must have been similar, righ—

JJ: You just need some confidence! Baking’s about expression. Exploration! Extrapolation! Ex--

GEORGI: [heavy sigh]— _girlfriends_.

[Everyone ignores him.]

ISABELLA: _[creaming butter and sugar together in her stand mixer]_ You know, Seung-Gil, I hate to say it, but JJ’s right. You just…gotta get your groove back, y’know? Have a cuppa and reboot that computer in your head. 

[JJ smiles at her, clearly glad that _someone_ gets his message.]

SEUNG-GIL: Why are you helping—no, no, I have—I have a schedule. I’m behind already. I have to get started. 

[Mila, Isabella, and JJ exchange concerned glances as Seung-Gil turns back to the recipe, before the competitors return to their own bakes and Mila heads back towards Chris. The camera cuts to a pastoral montage before cutting back to Chris and Mila, who are holding a whiteboard with an elaborately drawn clock on it.]

CHRIS: Alright, my marzi-panhandlers, you have forty five minutes remaining! That’s forty five minutes, before you must line up at the gingham altar with the fruitcakes of your labours! 

MILA: No pressure, though.

 

[The camera cuts to Phichit, who has opened his oven to test his cake.]

PHICHIT: This is taking _forever_ to cook. _[sighs dramatically]_. You’d think two and a half hours would leave a nice margin of safety, but it looks like we’re all going to be scrambling to get that top layer of marzipan on. Oh well, no rest for the weary, yeah?

[The tent become more and more frenzied as time ticks down.]

 

MINAMI: _[jumping up and down in front of his oven]_ Ok, ok, I’m taking it out. I can’t wait any longer!

 

YUURI K: _[laughing nervously]_ I _really_ don’t want to underbake it this time. So I’m leaving it in a little longer. 

 

YAKOV: _[as he removes his cake from the oven, eyes slightly narrowed]_ Perfect.

 

 

YURI P: ‘Kay, now what? “Add apricot jam and second layer of marzipan. Decorate.”

 

YUUKO: Decorate with _what_?

 

SARA: I am so glad I reserved some of this. _[waves a chunk of saran-wrapped marzipan]_

 

VIKTOR: _[almost cheerfully, as he rolls his reserved marzipan into equally sized spheres]_ You know, the name ‘Simnel cake’ doesn’t actually derive from Simnel Sunday. Da, da, it came first! It actually comes—by way of French, of course _[winks at Chris]_ —from the Greek ‘semidalis’, or ‘fine flour’. Because servant girls coming home for Mothering Sunday would bake their mothers a fancy cake with the finest ingredients to show off what they’d learned. _[And for a moment, as he shares this etymological trivia, Viktor’s expression loses the melancholy blankness of an old oil portrait and gains a brief spark of animation. It goes largely unnoticed.]_

YURI P: _[loudly]_ Totally apocryphal, old man. 

[Viktor merely nods in agreement, bestowing an indulgent smile on his young competitor.]

VIKTOR: This is very true. But still a good story, da?

YURI P: Tcha.

 

PHICHIT: _[reading from recipe]_ “Broil top of decorated cake.” All right! Firebending time!

CHRIS: _[laughs]_ Sorry, Prince Zuko, no firebending today! It’s oven-broil only in the liability nation.

PHICHIT: I never pictured you as Uncle Iroh, Chris.

CHRIS: _[purring]_ What did you picture me as, _cherie?_

[Phichit pauses for a moment before answering, smirk on his face, an impish gleam in his dark eyes.]

PHICHIT: Well…I always thought you’d make an _adorable_ sky bison.

[Mila cackles hysterically as Chris throws up his hands and walks off, clearly trying very hard to restrain his own laughter.]

[She pauses to catch her breath before delivering a loud, clear, “ten minutes remaining!”]

 

[The countdown music plays as the bakers scramble to get the last finishing touches on their cakes. The scene is one of utter pandemonium—springforms clattering, voices raised in panicked questions and demands for oven gloves and spatulas and ‘just two more minutes, _please_ ’, until finally, time is called, and the bakers file up one by one to lay their creations behind their pictures upon the gingham tablecloth.]

[Celestino and Madame Lilia enter, looking critically at the anonymous array presented before them. The contestants, perched in a row on high stools like a line of nervous ducklings, watch with varying degrees of worry as the judges begin their considerations.]

CELESTINO: Well, let’s see what our bakers have whipped up for us today.

[Celestino and Lilia begin working their way down the line of Simnel cakes, examining each one carefully before cutting in and tasting the final product. Phichit, Yakov, and Otabek’s creations are recieved with general praise, as are, to a lesser extent and to the latter’s almost delirious relief, Isabella’s and Yuuri K’s. Sara, Minami, Georgi, and Yuri P are less fortunate, falling to lower end of the pack with samples that are ‘dry, rather underbaked, unfortunately decorated, and ‘agressively almond-y’’, respectively. Seung-gil fares even worse, his early delays leaving him with a cake so underdone it’s closer to pudding. Yuuko remains relatively safe with purely aesthetic problems, leaving the final competition for first place between an ebullient JJ and an utterly unsurprised Viktor.

CELESTINO: _[indicating one of the two top cakes]_. Whose is this?

JJ: It’s all JJ style, Celestino!

CELESTINO: Well…very nice job anyway. Moist, fruity layers, good marzipan, you’ve got the decorations all right…very nice job.

LILIA: Which means first place is…

VIKTOR: Me.

LILIA: Yes. Well done, Viktor. A near perfect Simnel cake.

CELESTINO: Well, that’s high praise if I ever heard it! Don’t get cocky with us now, Viktor.

VIKTOR: _[brightly]_ I can assure you I have no intention of getting cocky with anyone.

CHRIS: _[sighing sadly]_ Ah, _c’est dommage._

[Scattered laughs, and the camera cuts to a brief sweep of twilit woodland before focusing on Viktor, standing with his hands in his pockets in front of an old stone bench.]

VIKTOR: Pleased? Da. I mean, yes. Why wouldn’t I be pleased? One likes to start off with a comfortable lead. It frees the mind of the burden of necessity, if you know what I mean. I think…da, I think, though, that I am most curious to see what my competitors have come up with for the showstopper tomorrow. I think there will be a fair few surprises this season. _[Viktor flashes a bright grin, brief but enchantingly childlike in its unexpected delight]_ I can’t wait!

 

[Cut to Seung-Gil]

SEUNG-GIL: I have not…covered myself in glory today. But I can do better. I _will_ do better. I won’t let this be the best the world sees out of me.

 

[Cut to Sara]

SARA: Phew! I feel like I’ve been put through one of those old-timey clothes washers! _[Sara grins, a warm, sunny expression that immediately garners the viewer’s sympathy]_ I bet Vik-tor would know what they’re called, right? _[laughs]_ Well, he doesn’t know everything. I’m bringing my best game tomorrow! _[Sara starts as though remembering something, and then waves enthusiastically at the camera]_ Hi Mickey! That’s my twin brother. I told him I’d wave to him. Love ya, bro!

 

[Cut to Otabek]

OTABEK: _shrugs eloquently._

[The camera fades to black.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the showstopper.


	3. Bring It Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first showstopper challenge has arrived. Can our competitors bring their successes home to make star baker, or will they fall by the wayside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter? In a reasonable time frame?
> 
> Be afraid. Be very afraid.
> 
>  
> 
> And thank you, all, for the very lovely comments. It always brightens my day.

[It is a drizzly grey morning on the fields of old England, and the competitors are once more gathered within the tent for their very first Showstopper challenge. Lilia, Celestino, Mila, and Chris are seated around a pleasantly picturesque little table, teacups in hand as they discuss the first half of cake week.]

MILA: So, give us the goods, judges. How are our contestants looking so far?

CELESTINO: Well, I’m definitely getting excited for this season. Lots of talent in that tent.

CHRIS: Ah, but the cream always rises.

MILA: …I can’t even tell if that’s an innuendo or not anymore.

[Chris laughs.]

LILIA: [thoughtfully] Phichit has started off very well, I think. I enjoyed his signature bake a good deal, and his technical was strong.

CELESTINO: JJ and Viktor, too. Both leading the pack in the technical, and both had excellent signature bakes.

MILA: What about Yuuri K? I know you at least had a good bit to say about his signature, Madame.

LILIA: He does seem to suffer from some rather severe nerves. But I will say, that _if_ he can overcome them, then I believe he might make it all the way to the final.

CELESTINO: Oh, we’re making predictions early this year.

LILIA: Don’t pretend you haven’t any ideas of your own, Cialdini.

MILA: Ooh, she’s using last names. You’ve gone and done it now, Celestino. 

[They laugh.]

CHRIS: [leaning forward] And what about the other end of the scoreboard? Who hasn’t quite…made the slice?

LILIA: Seung-Gil will have to do _very_ well in the showstopper to keep his standing.

CELESTINO: Well, it’s happened before. I will say that Minami, as much as I adore his enthusiasm, has been falling a little behind on the skills front.

MILA: Well, he’s quite young, isn’t he?

LILIA: So is Yuri P, but I’ve been more impressed with him. Not blown away, mind you, but…there is a great deal of potential there.

CHRIS: Well, it’s all up to the showstopper, isn’t it?

CELESTINO: It is.

[Lilia merely takes a long sip of her tea.]

 

[Cut to individual competitors in sequence as they share their thoughts on the day ahead.]

 

ISABELLA: You know, I’m feeling pretty good! Yesterday went pretty well for the first go. _[Isabella shakes out her long limbs with a great deal of energy]_ I’m ready to go!

 

YURI P: I’m going to absolutely kill it today. No question.

 

SEUNG-GIL: I have recalculated my approach, and if I hold to it…I should be safe today.

 

PHICHIT: First showstopper day. Get hype! 

[Phichit raises a vintage polaroid camera and turns to snap a selfie with the camerawoman, a brilliant grin on his face. His charm and enthusiasm are almost as viral as his Instagram account.]

[The camera returns to the tent, where the competitors are standing ready at their stations, awaiting that iconic cry of “Bake!”. The judges and presenters are gathered once more at the front, Lilia impassive, Celestino with a leonine grin, and Chris and Mila bubbling with their usual enthusiasm.]

CHRIS: Good morning, _mes cheries_! And, may I add, a very warm welcome to your very first showstopper bake!

MILA: The anticipation is killing me.

CHRIS: Well, don’t keel over just yet, _amie_ ; the local DI is already giving us the side eye.

MILA: What? Really? Why?

CHRIS: Apparently we’ve been accused of…[pulls a piece of paper from his pocket and pauses for a dramatic moment before reading]…”Assault and buttery with intent to chill.”

[laughter and smiles throughout the tent. Mila groans. Chris looks inordinately pleased with himself.]

MILA: Well, that just takes the cake.

CHRIS: I always knew you’d make a great partner in crime, Mila.

MILA: [laughs] Oh, you have no idea.

CHRIS: Oooh. Don’t leave us hanging.

MILA: [smirking] Well, before we make a start on our lives as fugitives, we should probably share today’s showstopper bake.

CHRIS: Hmm, all right—but I’m still going to need those details. [Chris grins, a lazy curling up of one corner of his mouth, and spreads his arms out in a welcoming gesture.] But for now, _mes enfants_ , before we abscond for a life of crime on the shores of Southern Italy, let us discuss...home.

MILA: That’s right! For your showstopper bake today, Madame Lilia and Celestino have requested that you create for us a cake—or cakes—that showcase the scent and sensibility of your hometown.

CHRIS: It can be of any shape or form—roulades, cupcakes, layer cakes, anything your little hearts desire—so long as it captures the essence of that place you call ‘home’.

MILA: You have two and a half hours for your hometown bakes. So without further ado…

CHRIS: On your marks…

MILA: Get set…

BOTH: BAKE!

[The tent dissolves into a whirl of obliquely organized disarray, as jars and saucepans and exotic ingredients make an appearance in a cascade of colour and sound and smell. It is an unusually varied cast this season, stretching across the globe from the warm islands of Japan to the vast Canadian taiga, a loud multilingual jumble of the kind that gives the modern British city its life.]

[The camera settles on JJ, who is peeling a bowlful of potatoes with sharp, clean strokes. The judges and presenters arrive before his station, looking curiously at the quickly growing pile.]

CELESTINO: So, JJ, do you want to tell us about your hometown cake?

JJ: Well, as you know, we Leroys are originally from Montreal. And what’s the most Canadian thing you can think of?

CHRIS: Maple sy—

JJ: [interrupting] Poutine!

MILA: Poutine?

CELESTINO: …what, you mean…chips, cheese, gravy—that poutine?

JJ: Yup!

CELESTINO: In a cake?

[Madame Lilia merely raises an eyebrow.]

[Across the room, Yuri P snorts loudly.]

JJ: Well, not quite. [laughs] Even I couldn’t pull that off! No, this is a _sweet_ poutine! You’ve had potato bread, right? Well, this is a caked up version! Sweetened potato base, cream cheese filling, caramel ‘gravy’, and white chocolate ‘curds’.

CELESTINO: Actually, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Though I maybe would have gone with sweet potato instead of yukon golds…

JJ: Obviously I considered it, but I wanted that slight hit of savoury. Trust me, it’s unbelievable.

MILA: Well, I’ll certainly have to see it to believe it.

JJ: [beaming] That’s exactly what I’m going for!

[We are treated to various scenes from JJ’s life as the narrator provides a voiceover: a cacophony of cheers and elation as JJ scores in a rugby game, sings as the front man in his garage rock band, and presents a new line in his role as a fashion designer. Interspersed are softer moments, as he whips up cakes with his mother in her tidy kitchen and roughhouses with his little siblings.]

NARRATOR: JJ comes from a large but tight-knit family of athletes and artists, though he is the first to venture into the baking world. He hopes he will make all the people who have supported him proud, and he hopes most of all that people will enjoy his creations! 

NARRATOR: JJ is not the only one working from a traditionally savoury base. Sara and Yuri P have also opted to go bold with their first showstoppers.

[The camera cuts to Sara, meticulously chopping herbs as a deep ruby liquid reduces on the stove.]

NARRATOR: Sara lives in York with her twin brother Mickey, where they run a wedding planning service. Her brother also tried out for the competition, but sadly didn’t make the cut.

[As the Narrator speaks, images of Sara’s life flash by: her gesturing enthusiastically at an arrangement of orchids as several young women look on, her and her brother making pasta in their shared kitchen, Mickey glowering at the camera as Sara puts the final touches on a three tiered cake.]

SARA: It’s a tomato cake! With cream cheese icing and sugared basil.

MILA: [chewing thoughfully on a basil leaf] Ooh! That’s really flavourful.

SARA: I grow it myself! You can’t get good herbs in the shops where we are, and, of course, our family is Italian, so..basil, parsley, all very critical to dinner time. I mostly use this for spaghetti sauce. Family recipe! Can’t be beat.

MILA:I don’t know, Celestino makes a mean red sauce…

SARA: Nonsense. [Sara waves a wooden spoon coated in fragrant tomato paste at her.] You come over to my house; I’ll make you the best spaghetti you’ve ever eaten. Angels weep at the very taste. [Laughs] You’ll have to get past Mickey, though.

MILA: [clearly trying very hard not to look disappointed] Your boyfriend?

SARA: [waving her hands frantically] No, no! My brother! He’s a fiend for spaghetti.

[Mila leans an elbow on the counter, a grin appearing on her face. Her blue eyes are very bright.]

MILA: So am I! I can take him.

SARA: I believe you could.

[She and Mila smile at one another.]

CHRIS: [coughing delicately] Well, luckily for the rest of our competitors it’s not a spaghetti competition, eh? 

[Mila starts with a slightly guilty expression. Chris looks amused. As they take their leave from Sara’s station, Mila can be heard muttering a faint, ‘Don’t you dare, Christophe.’]

[The camera cuts to Yuri P, who is stirring jam with an almost gentle look on his sharp-angled face. The judges and hosts approach warily.]

MADAME LILIA: [sounding unusually pleased] Is that sour cherry I smell?

YURI P: [surprised, and covering it up with unnecessary fierceness] Da! Vishnevoe varenye. My dedushka’s recipe. [For a moment, Yuri’s expression softens, and the sensitive, affectionate child peers through the facade of punk-rock apathy.] When I think of home, my _dedushka_ is who I imagine. He took me in when my…when I was little, and taught me everything I know about pastry. So this cake is a tribute to him, and his specialty dish—piroshki. I want to make him proud of what he’s taught me.

[Suddenly deciding that he’s said too much, Yuri P shuts down, turning back to his varenye with his pale blond hair falling over his face and hiding any treacherous emotion from view.]

MADAME LILIA: [with surprising gentleness] I look forward to it very much.

YURI P: Sure.

[A brief pastiche of Yuri P’s life appears on screen, clips of him furiously chasing a group of teens harassing a stray cat and playing the drums like they’ve personally insulted his leopard print leggings and making vatrushki with his grandfather in their small, cramped kitchen.]

NARRATOR: Yuri P, who at 16 is our youngest contestant ever, lives in London with his grandfather and his beloved cat, ‘Puma Tiger Scorpion’. Though his family hails from Moscow, Russia, his dream is to go to France to study pastry making.

 

[Cut to Kenjirou Minami’s station, currently a disaster zone of Mochiko flour and sunshine yellow lemon curd.]

MINAMI: I mean, I’m a scouser born and raised, but my family immigrated from Tokyo after World War II and I wanted to incorporate that into my cake as well! [Minami hops up and down on his toes as he shows the camera what he’s baking.] So, Liverpool—the Beatles, right? So it’s a Yellow Submarine cake. Get it? It’s a Yellow sub sandwich cake! But not, like, a sandwich. Cause that would be gross. But I’m making it with sweet rice flour and stuff—so it’s a mochi cake, as well. It didn’t turn out so great the first time I made it but the second was _totally_ amazing so…my mum had some really great advice on working with rice flour, but of course she spent a lot of time in Japan as a kid — hey, did you see what Yuuri K is doing? [In an awed voice] _Raindrop cupcakes_. I had no idea he could bake! You know he was like, the _star_ of the Tokyo ballet? Yeah! They were calling him the Japanese Baryshnikov. He— 

[Yuuri K, at his station with his back to the viewer, visibly tenses, while the camera’s periphery just picks up Viktor, listening with his head tilted and one finger pressed against his mouth, and intense, puzzled look on his face.]

MINAMI: It was a whole thing when he left, you know, and they were _totally_ in the wrong because I saw him dance that role and—

[Phichit appears suddenly at Minami’s station, like a genie summoned by twitter @s, and takes an exaggerated sniff of the excitable young man’s lemon curd.]

PHICHIT: Minami, my sunshine son, you _need_ to tell me how you got your curd that yellow. I’m literally dying of envy here.

ISABELLA: _Your_ sunshine son? Phichit, I don’t remember agreeing to share custody.

MILA: Aw, I wanted to keep him.

MINAMI: Guys, I already have parents.

PHICHIT: [magnanimously] So? We can still adopt you. And, as your new father, I’m officially declaring you the designated tent son. All in favour say ‘Aye’. Aye!

MILA: Aye!

ISABELLA: Aye!

CHRIS: Aye!

YUUKO: Aye!

OTABEK: [deadpan] Aye.

MINAMI: You guys…

 

[Cut to Georgi, who is making a cake based around a classic raspberry cranachan and not looking very enthused with it.]

GEORGI: Home? Home to me…was Anya. And now I have nothing.

SEUNG-GIL: I can’t see how moping about it benefits you in any way.

YUUKO: Surely there’s a little inspiration to be found in heartbreak, right, Georgi? Make, like…a hate cake. It’s the PG version of a hate fu—oh, no, I’m on telly, aren’t I? I can’t say that!

MILA: [laughing] Don’t worry, Yuuko, they’ll get it in editing.

YUUKO: Aaah! I hope so, or I’ll never hear the end of it! The girls are like little parrots, I swear.

CHRIS: [voice over as a diagram of said cake is shown on screen] Yuuko is making a cake based around a favourite sweet of her childhood, doriyaki. Three layers of sweet honey sponge sandwich a red bean and custard filling, and the whole thing will be topped with whipped cream and spun sugar decorations. 

 

[The tent grows increasingly loud and frantic as the designated two and a half hours tick inexorably down. Yuuri K can be seen darting to and fro on light feet between fridge and oven as the two critical pieces of his cherry blossom raindrop chestnut cupcakes set and bake, respectively. Phichit, surrounded by an enchanting haze of kaffir lime leaves and coconut, whirls up a complex looking buttercream as his fragrant cake layers cool. Viktor, looking almost frazzled for the first time in the competition, is whipping thin cookie-like layers in and out of the oven in a seemingly endless stream as he slowly builds up his ‘St. Petersburg White Russian Medovik’. As he pushes his long fringe out of his eyes after the last layers go in, he lets out a long sigh and, catching the camera on him, takes a mock swig of the vodka sitting out for his filling.]

YUURI K: [groaning and pushing his glasses back up his nose with a floured finger as he surveys everything he has left to do.] I really hope you were planning on sharing that, Professor Nikiforov.

[He looks almost as surprised that he’s spoken as Viktor does at being spoken to.]

VIKTOR: …Just Viktor is fine. Please. 

YUURI K: [slightly pink around the cheeks as he looks down at his cupcake bases, the woody smell of roasted chestnuts permeating the air] Oh. Um. I hope you were going to share that, then…Viktor. [He leans on the name, Kyushu accent drawing it out and rounding the syllables into something very different than the harsh phonemes he’d been offered, something softer, something precious. Viktor leans in, beautiful cold blooded cobra to the snake charmer’s flute—or, more and more, as the human seeps through the cracks in the shedding scales—blooming flower to the sun.]

VIKTOR: [slightly breathless] Of course…Yuuri.

[The camera lingers for a moment before turning to Otabek, who’s frying up short strands of his thick homemade noodles in melted butter.

Yuri P steps away from his station for a moment as his roulade base cools, peering into Otabek’s frying pan with a puzzled expression.]

YURI P: [abruptly] What’s that?

OTABEK: Chak chak. [At Yuri P’s impatient prompting] Fried noodles in butter and honey. Very popular in Kazakhstan. Going on my cake.

YURI P: Looks like brains.

OTABEK: Exactly.

YURI P: That’s _almost_ metal.

[Otabek merely scoops out a crisped noodle on his spatula and offers it to Yuri P. Yuri seems surprised, but takes the proffered tidbit and crunches it with very few manners but a great deal of aggressive enthusiasm.]

YURI P: Brains, huh? [chewing] Kazakh zombies have it _made_. 

[Otabek grins.]

 

[Cut to Mila, perched on the edge of a table with a teacup full of someone’s buttercream. Chris is, with great care and patience, attempting to steal a spoonful.]

MILA: Alright, my hometown heroes, you have exactly, uh, 15 and a half minutes remaining! That’s 15 and a half minutes! 

[The tent becomes, if possible, even more frenzied. Chris finally makes his move, only to be blocked efficiently by Mila’s arm.]

MILA: Get your own, Christophe! 

 

[The contestants rush to put the finishing touches on their cakes as the last moments of time tick down—Seung Gil pipes precisely spaced rosettes on the top of his rainbow cake; Phichit grates fresh coconut over his creation with a quick hand; JJ places white chocolate ‘curds’ with an artistic flourish. Yuuri K can be seen sifting kinako over his cupcakes in elegant swirls, feet absentmindedly shifting in the steps of a waltz as he moves down the line. Viktor tosses crumbled honeycomb over parchment paper cut outs before peeling them off to reveal a graceful vee of seagulls winging their way across his cake.

The music grows increasingly intense, the tent increasingly manic, until finally the camera cuts back to Mila and Chris, who call time with an enthusiastic bellow.]

 

MINAMI: Oh, wow. Wow! That went by so fast! I feel like I just got here.

 

YAKOV: That was…more exhausting that I had expected.

 

PHICHIT: Come on, everyone! Bring it in! Yeah, even you, tiny Yuri! Mila, grab him please? Brilliant! Post first showstopper selfie!

[His camera flashes. An image of the photo appears on screen, capturing a tent full of excited grins and buttercream smudges and a very miffed looking Yuri P being deadlifted by Mila. Yakov is standing slightly apart, not looking entirely thrilled by the whole concept, JJ is blocking Minami’s face with his ‘JJ style’ hand sign, and Viktor and Yuuri K have somehow ended up squished together, certainly not by any artifice on the photographer’s part, no sir, and neither of them seem quite sure what to do with their hands. Still, it is a charming picture.]

[The image breaks for a pastiche of wildflowers and meandering lambs before returning to the tent, where the contestants are back at their stations, showstopper bakes before them, and the judges are standing at a table at the head of the airy space. Mila and Chris wave cheerily at them.]

CHRIS: Ah, welcome back, Monsieur and Madame! As you can see, our baker’s dozen are all dressed up and ready to impress.

MILA: Now, your task this week was to create a cake that epitomized ‘home’ for you. So, Isabella, if you’d please bring up your creation…

[Isabella carefully carries her cake to the front table. It is a graceful, airy confection redolent with the scent of spice and oranges.]

CELESTINO: So, Isabella, would you like to tell us about your cake?

ISABELLA: Um, so, when I think of home, I think of Christmas, with my family—I come from a really big family and the holiday season is the only time that we can all get together. It’s a big celebration, and on Christmas Eve we always make mulled wine with oranges and cloves and all that; it’s kind of our family tradition—so I wanted to incorporate that into my bake. 

CELESTINO: Well, it definitely smells wonderful!

LILIA: Mmm. Agreed.

[Madame Lilia picks up a knife and cuts efficiently into the cake, lifting out a piece and observing the crumb with a critical eye.]

LILIA: Good and moist. The candied orange peels are a nice touch. I do like a little colour on my cakes.

CELESTINO: Mmmhmm. 

[They try a bite each. Isabella stands with her hands folded, looking nervous as she waits to hear their pronouncement.]

CELESTINO: Oh, wow, that does taste _exactly_ like mulled wine.

CHRIS: Well, you’ve sold me.

[Chris tries a bit with a great deal of enthusiasm. He gives Isabella a thumbs up with his mouth full.]

LILIA: A little heavy handed on the cinnamon, though.

CELESTINO: I don’t know, I think it’s just the right amount. It’s not overpowering.

LILIA: Mm.

CELESTINO: Lovely work, Isabella.

ISABELLA: [exhaling] Thank you so much.

CHRIS: Phichit, _cherie_ , you’re up.

[Isabella heads back to her station as Phichit brings up his colourful, fragrant cake.]

LILIA: This I’m intrigued by.

PHICHIT: It’s Kaffir Lime and Coconut. I’m from Thailand, and Kaffir lime leaves are very important in Thai cooking—can’t have a meal without them! The smell always reminds me of home. And coconut—nothing beats cracking open a fresh coconut right off the palm! There’s nothing like it in the world. That’s my childhood, right in a cake. [He gestures expansively.] Enjoy!

[The judges dig in. Phichit bounces anxiously on his toes.]

CELESTINO: It’s kind of like the cake equivalent of lying on the beach on a sunny day with a really cold drink. Mmm. Oh, and the hint of spice at the end, I like that a lot.

LILIA: The flavour is _very_ good. Well done, Phichit.

[Phichit beams. Chris gives him an enthusiastic one armed hug.]

CHRIS: Well done, _mon ami_.

[Phichit heads back to his station, where Yuuri K gives him an enthusiastic fistbump and a grin.]

YUURI K: [mouthing] You’re so gonna win this.

PHICHIT: You know it, Katsuki.

MILA: Georgi, if you would bring your cake up, please?

[Georgi carries his slightly sad looking dessert up.]

GEORGI: In Edinburgh, where I once lived with my fiance, cranachan is a traditional Scottish pudding. We…ate it the evening I proposed. I have incorporated elements of that into my cake.

LILIA: [tasting] It…does not inspire.

GEORGI: [bitterly] Apparently, neither did I.

 

[Next up, Yakov limps to the front, refusing any aid, and places his bird’s milk cake reverently in front of Madame Lilia.] 

LILIA: [visibly pleased] Ptichye moloko! I haven’t had this since I was young.

YAKOV: You are still young, Madame.

[Celestino raises an eyebrow. Mila and Chris grin at each other. Yuri P snickers before being hushed by a murderous glare from Yakov.]

CELESTINO: [as Lilia slices carefully into the cake] A very multicultural group this season. I take it this is another Russian delicacy?

YAKOV: Da. I grew up in St. Petersburg, though back then it was still called Leningrad. We did not have much. But we made the best of what we had. My late mother, may she rest, would scrimp all year for the ingredients to make ptichye moloko on our birthdays. So that—that is home for me.

LILIA: That kind of love is why we are here, is it not? 

YAKOV: You understand, Madame.

LILIA: [Giving a rare smile as she samples the cake.] _Vkusno!_

 

MILA: Seung-Gil, your cake, please?

[Seung-Gil carries his rainbow cake up to the front.]

SEUNG-GIL: [crisply] My family is Korean, and so I have made a torte originally created in a South Korean bakery before it became popular around the world.

CELESTINO: [slicing into the tall, pristine cake] Very tidy. Nice neat layers.

LILIA: Well, it’s certainly visually impressive. [Tasting it.] It is, however, rather bland.

SEUNG-GIL: The allure is in the design. The taste…is secondary.

LILIA: Hmm.

[Celestino winces.]

 

[Yuuko brings her doriyaki cake up to the judges’ table. She has decorated it to look like a rather adorable cat.

Yuri P surreptitiously stands on his toes for a closer look.]

CELESTINO: Well, this is definitely the cutest cake we’ve seen today.

YUUKO: Thank you!

CELESTINO: [cutting a piece and chewing thoughtfully] Well, I’ve never been fond of red bean paste, but that’s purely a personal opinion. That honey sponge is lovely, though.

LILIA: Not bad. Not bad at all.

[As Yuuko heads back to her station with a proud smile, she catches Yuuri K staring at her cake with a longing expression. She waves at him.]

YUUKO: [in imperfect Japanese] I’ll save you a piece!

[YUURI K looks startled, before smiling shyly and bowing with a soft _’doumo sumimasen’_ and a welcoming gesture at his own cupcakes.]

 

[Sara is called up next, and she presents her spiced tomato cake with a grimace. It’s clear that her creation has not turn out quite as hoped.]

CELESTINO: I really _want_ to like this, but…

SARA: [glumly] I know.

 

CHRIS: Yuri P, if you would…

[Yuri P places his sour cherry and farmer’s cheese piroshki roulade on the judges’ table with a thump.] 

CELESTINO: [cutting a thick slice] Mmm, look at that swirl. Very nice.

LILIA: [tasting] Now that is some proper varenye. Well done, Yuri. Very well done. Your dedushka ought to be proud.

YURI P: I… _spasibo_.

[As he returns to his station with a pleased grin hidden behind his hair, Otabek catches his eye and gives him a grave thumbs up. Yuri, much to the surprise of everyone watching, returns the gesture.]

 

MILA: Minami, my son, you’re up!

[Minami bounds to the front, almost dropping his sunshine yellow cake several times along the way. Fortunately, his progress is too fast to be properly nerve wracking.]

CELESTINO: [laughing] Your enthusiasm is infectious, Minami.

LILIA: [slicing into the confection] Now this is an interesting texture.

MINAMI: It’s the mochiko!

CELESTINO: [chewing] You know, I rather like that.

LILIA: We’ll…agree to disagree on that.

 

[Otabek is up next, placing his crisp-topped chak chak cake carefully down in front of the judges.]

CELESTINO: I might need some background for this.

OTABEK: [gravely] Home to me…is family. And when I think of family, I think of my father with grease on his hands and my mother in the kitchen making sheets of noodles and my sisters and I frying them up for chak chak and eating them after school, all together. [He spreads his hands out slowly.] Family.

CHRIS: I didn’t know you were a poet, Otabek.

[Otabek merely shrugs.]

[Lilia cuts carefully into the cake, pulling out a good sized slice.]

LILIA: [crunching delicately] Did you make these noodles yourself?

OTABEK: Yes, Madame.

LILIA: I can tell.

CELESTINO: That’s a compliment, by the way.

[Otabek nods, apparently satisfied with this response. As he returns to his station, Yuri P, almost shyly, gives him a thumbs up.

Otabek sets his cake down and returns the gesture, seeming pleased.]

 

MILA: Yuuri K, you’re up!

[Yuuri K very carefully lifts his tray, a delicately floral array of raindrop cakes balanced atop a chestnut base, salted cherry blossoms blooming in the tinted agar and shimmering with pale pink syrup. It is probably for the best that his station is near the front, as his shaking hands set the gel-like raindrop cakes trembling precariously. He waits, clearly beyond nervous.]

CELESTINO: Now that’s a showstopper! 

[Lilia nods in agreement. Yuuri K hides behind his jumper covered hands, face red.]

CELESTINO: Would you care to tell us more about these little beauties, Yuuri?

YUURI K: I…my home…[he takes a calming breath before going on, lowering his hands away from his face] I grew up in a small castle town in Kyushu—Hasetsu—my parents own an onsen, and when the cherry trees bloom over the water it looks—it looks as though you could just…step through into another world. Like the start of a fairy story. I guess I wanted to recreate that feeling.

LILIA: There is a quality of enchantment here that is truly exquisite. Let’s see how they taste.

[The judges sample the small cakes with measured bites. Yuuri K watches, hardly breathing.]

LILIA: [after a moment] I recall that after your signature bake was underdone you promised to do better.

[Yuuri K freezes, a look of utter dread on his face.]

LILIA: …You have not disappointed me. Well done, Yuuri. This is…an exceptional bake.

[Yuuri stares at her for a moment, before disappearing once more behind his hands, face the same shade as the cherry blossoms and clearly once more completely overwhelmed.]

YUURI K: [muffled] _Doumo arigatou gozaimasu!_

[He gives her a low bow before darting back to his station, returning only a few seconds later to retrieve his cakes with another bow before retreating once more. Madame Lilia smiles indulgently. Chris grins.

Phichit, never one for decorum, runs around from behind his station to catch Yuuri K in a crushing hug as Yuuko, Minami, and Isabella beam at him. Several of the other contestants, however, look slightly troubled.

Viktor half rises from his stool as though he intends to cross over to Yuuri, a small hesitant smile and an expression of great curiosity on his face, before he is halted by Mila calling JJ up to the front, and the baffled look on Yuri P’s face as he watches him, a sudden stark reminder of the distance between him and the rest of his competitors. He sinks back on his chair, chin resting on his hand, smile fading.]

 

[JJ delivers his Poutine Cake to the judges’ table with significant fanfare. To his credit (or not), it does look convincingly poutine-like]

JJ: Direct from Montreal!

CELESTINO: Well, this is definitely a new one for me.

[Lilia says nothing. She looks…disapproving. 

Celestino cuts a thin slice and digs in.]

CELESTINO: Well…it’s an interesting concept. All the elements are good—though I’m not quite sure about the potato sponge—they just don’t—

LILIA: —mesh.

CELESTINO: Mmm. I do have to give you points for originality, though. I appreciate the risk you chose to take here.

JJ: [cheerfully] Wouldn’t be art if everyone liked it!

LILIA: …quite.

ISABELLA: [quietly] Man, nothing gets that guy down.

GEORGI: [whispering back] Heartbreak will.

ISABELLA:[fondly exasperated] Go punch a tree, Heathcliff.

GEORGI: Absolutely not. I’ve been attacked by a squirrel once today already and I have no desire to repeat the process.

ISABELLA: You’re a disaster.

 

[JJ returnes to his station, and the final contestant is called to the judging table.] 

CHRIS: Viktor, if you could please bring that delectable looking cake up here…

[Viktor conveys his medovik to the front with a look of careful concentration on his face. Yuuri K leans forward, mouth open slightly. Phichit tosses a small wad of parchment paper at his head.]

PHICHIT: [whispering] What happened to not being flamingly gay on international tv?

YUURI K: [throwing the parchment paper back at him, clearly slightly giddy from relief] That’s it; I’m taking the hamsters in the divorce.

PHICHIT: [aghast] The Geneva convention exists for a reason, Yuuri!

CELESTINO: So, Viktor, would you like to tell us about your cake?

VIKTOR: I, like Yakov, was also born in St. Petersburg. [cheerfully] Though many years later, of course!

[Yuri P snorts derisively.]

VIKTOR: It was my Mama who taught me to bake, and her favourite cake was _medovik_ , a, ah, honey cake? So that is home to me. And, of course, in proper St. Petersburg fashion I have added vodka—along with cream and kalhua—to make it a ‘White Russian’.

[Yuuri K smiles at this. Phichit rolls his eyes.]

LILIA: Doesn’t medovik usually take a day to meld properly?

VIKTOR: [wryly] Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t know that.

[Lilia gives him a hard look.]

VIKTOR: I suppose I was Russian it a bit.

[Yuri P huffs disgustedly. Yuuri K giggles. Lilia glowers. JJ looks blank.]

[Celestino cuts a thin slice and removes it from the main body of the cake with a nod.]

CELESTINO: It looks promising.

LILIA: [tasting gingerly] It could definitely have benefited from more time to set.

CELESTINO: [chewing] Well, whatever Lilia may think, I like it. The cream is especially good.

LILIA: It could do with more bite.

CELESTINO: [laughing] You’re absolutely determined to find fault with poor Viktor, aren’t you, Lilia?

LILIA: I state as I taste.

[Viktor shrugs with Slavic resignation and returns to his station, and then the contestants watch nervously as the judges retire to discuss the results in private.] 

 

[The camera cuts to a charmingly decorated room in the tent, where Lilia, Celestino, Chris, and Mila are seated round a small wooden table, slices of the various showstopper cakes in front of them.]

CHRIS: Well, Monsieur and Madame, how did our competitors fare their first week?

CELESTINO: You know, I was pleasantly surprised with the quality of our bakes today. They’re starting very strong right off the bat this season.

LILIA: Some more than others.

CELESTINO: I’ll have to agree with that. Though maybe not with the specifics there, eh?

MILA: Well, I think we can all agree that our shy little cherry blossom from Japan blew all our socks off with that showstopper.

LILIA: Yuuri K has a remarkable sense of…musicality in his baking.

CELESTINO: And flavour, too. Ah, I’ll be dreaming about that chestnut sponge. And speaking of dreams, though I know you don’t want to hear it, Lilia, I think Viktor has done remarkably well as well. First in technical, as well as an excellent signature bake. And _I_ personally liked his showstopper.

LILIA: Well, won’t say he isn’t gifted. But talent isn’t all one needs.

CELESTINO: It certainly helps, though!

MILA: So, who else do we like?

LILIA: I thought Yuuko did remarkably well. Her signature in particular was excellent.

CELESTINO: Phichit, definitely. I personally loved his showstopper. It was bold, it was novel, and it was delicious.

LILIA: I agree completely. Though I will add that classic can be just as good. I speak particularly of Yakov’s ptichye moloko. And I was very fond of Yuri P’s piroshki roulade, although his signature bake was unremarkable.

CHRIS: Do I detect a slight Russian bias here?

CELESTINO: Well, you’ll get no bias from the Italian contingent. That tomato cake Sara brought out…ugh. Not our nation’s finest moment.

LILIA: Her signature bake wasn’t bad, though. And she did passably in the technical.

MILA: Is passable enough, though?

CELESTINO: Well, let’s not forget JJ’s poutine cake, or…Seung-gil.

MILA: Poor Seung-Gil. I think he just got a bit frazzled.

CHRIS: His showstopper was rather good, I thought.

[Lilia and Celestino exchange looks.]

CELESTINO: It definitely _looked_ good.

LILIA: I can’t say the same for JJ’s poutine cake.

CELESTINO: Still, he did very well in the signature, and came second in the technical as well. And he did take a big risk with going that unexpected. I’d like to see what else he can bring.

LILIA: JJ definitely saved himself with his performance yesterday.

MILA: So, have you settled on who’s going home star baker, and who’s just…going home?

LILIA: [looking at Celestino] I think we have.

 

[The judges and presenters return from their consideration room, standing once more at the front of the tent. The contestants, lined up like sitting ducks on a row of stools, wait with bated breath for the outcome.]

MILA: So, as you know, Chris and I like to trade off who gets the happy task of naming star baker…

CHRIS: [gravely] And who gets stuck with the executioner’s axe.

MILA: And I won our coin toss for first go! So without further ado, our star baker today…

[The camera pans across a line of nervous faces, lingering for an extra moment on Viktor, Yuuko, Phichit, and Yuuri K before returning to Mila.]

MILA: —is someone who blossomed from an underbaked little tea leaf to the most beautiful cherry tree at the ball—of course, I’m talking about Yuuri K!

[Yuuri K stares disbelievingly as Phichit grabs him in an ebullient hug with a gleeful “Told you so!”. Yuuko laughs and cheers, while JJ slaps him a little overexuberantly on the back with a loud “Well done”. Yuri P looks thoughtful. Viktor applauds enthusiastically.]

CHRIS: [after a moment, allowing the celebratory air to die down slightly.] But, alas, now the time has come for the tragic part of the evening. One of you, I am afraid, will be leaving the tent today. And that person is…

[The camera pans once more across the contestants, lingering on Seung-Gil, Sara, and Georgi, the nervous tension in the room almost palpable.]

CHRIS: Seung-Gil. 

[Seung-Gil gives a long exhale and nods with miserable resignation. Sara pats him comfortingly on the back.]

CHRIS: I’m sorry, Seung-Gil. It’s been a pleasure having you here.

MILA: Bring it in, mate. Chris Mila sandwich, c’mon.

[Chris and Mila enfold Seung-Gil in a crushing hug as the others gather to either congratulate or commiserate.]

 

[Cut to Celestino, sitting on the bench outside once more.]

CELESTINO: I feel for Seung-Gil, I really do—that precision is really impressive! But you’ve got to be flexible in this competition, and he didn’t quite rise to the challenge.

 

[Cut to Seung-Gil, standing against a dusky arboreal background, coat pulled tight around his shoulders.]

SEUNG-GIl: I can’t say I’m not…disappointed. In myself, most of all. This wasn’t representative of what I know I can do. 

[He sighs quietly, and turns away.]

 

[Cut to Sara, standing similarly]

SARA: Phew! I feel like I just dodged a bullet. I really have to up my game next week.

 

[Cut to Yuuko]

YUUKO: Oh gosh, that was _intense_. I can’t imagine what next week will be like!

 

[Cut back to the tent, where Yuuri K is being eagerly congratulated by the judges and other contestants.

LILIA: [embracing him and kissing his cheek lightly] I hope you know you’ve set a very high standard for this competition, young man.

YUURI K: [laughing a little hysterically] Don’t tell me that!

[Viktor approaches, uncharacteristically hesitant, before offering Yuuri a congratulatory hand. Yuuri, with a courage born of victory, or possibly just dazed by adrenaline, grabs his hand and pulls him in for a hug. Viktor looks stunned, and then, slowly, like the sun rising, his face breaks into a brilliant, heart shaped smile.] 

YUURI K: Whatever Madame Lilia says, I thought your cake was amazing.

VIKTOR: [still smiling] Oh, I don’t know, I think Madame Lilia knows exactly what she’s talking about.

 

[Cut to Lilia, perched elegantly on that same stone bench.]

LILIA: Yuuri K baked a truly showstopping set of cakes today. No one deserved Star Baker more. [Her expression grows serious.] Let us hope he can maintain the standard.

 

[Cut to Yuuri K]

[Yuuri presses his hands against his face and squeals in pure overwhelmed emotion.]

 

[The screen slowly fades to black.]

 

 

TRENDING #GGBO #newseason #episode 1

 

**PrincessTorte** _@gbbo4evah_  
So…has anyone watched the new GBBO season premiere? Because…I have feelings.

 

**PrincessTorte** _@gbbo4evah_  
Like, I know this is supposed to be about the cakes but… 

 

**PrincessTorte** _@gbbo4evah_  
Ok I’m just gonna say it.  
Viktor and Yuuri K. I ship it. I ship it _hard_.

 

**Lorelai** _@rhinemaiden_  
Idk, Viktor seems kind of an asshole to me. Maybe it’s just first episode jitters, tho.

 

**PrincessTorte** _@gbbo4evah_  
 _@rhinemaiden_ watch that last segment where Yuuri K hugs him and tell me he is anything but the Softest of Soft Boys I dare you

 

**PrincessTorte** _@gbbo4evah_  
ALSO YUURI K FUCKING WOWED LILIA WITH AN UNDERBAKED SIGNATURE WHAT KIND OF CAKE CHARMING SORCERY IS THIS

 

**LeafintheWind** _@watchhowisoar_  
 _@gbbo4evah_ omfg tell me about it  
I CAME HERE TO DROOL OVER CAKES NOT FALL IN LOVE

 

**LeafintheWind** _@watchhowisoar_  
 _@VNikiforov_ please love me 

 

**ladyofthelake** _@vivienne_  
I’m so here Yuri P; he absolutely doesn’t give a fuck and it’s so refreshing

 

**ladyofthelake** _@vivienne_  
See Also: Phichit.

 

**SuperGayforYuuriK** _@raindropcupcakes_  
Don’t mind me; I’m just taking this twitter handle before it becomes a hot commodity

 

**babylon6** _@gatesofhell_  
OK BUT IS ANYONE ON THIS SHOW ACTUALLY BRITISH?!

 

**carabosse** _@wickedwitch_  
‘Great British Bake Off’ more like “Great International Gay Off”

 

**SirAlecofKerry** _originalfantasygay_  
I have never been prouder of the BBC.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baking is my hobby and occasional source of income, and I have exactly zero chill unrelated to ice cream, so there is a very real possibility I will be making some of these culinary creations. Should that dire future come to pass, I'll be sure to post them so you can suffer with me. I'm magnanimous like that.

**Author's Note:**

> Come shame me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/punsforthepungod) for reckless negligence of WIPs and incredibly groan worthy puns.


End file.
